


Not in Working Order

by fishcrow



Series: Asexual Alastor, Kinky Bottom Edition [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Character, Bottom Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Crying, Dubious Consent, First Time, Gen, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, My First Fanfic, Other, Overstimulation, Self-Discovery, Submissive Character, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Touch-Starved, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:59:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21671095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishcrow/pseuds/fishcrow
Summary: Alastor's curiosity gets the better of him, but it's not exactly what he was expecting.[Part 1: an inexperienced and cautious ace discovers masturbation][Part 2: Alastor's feelings conflict in the absolute worst way possible (and the tentacles return)]
Relationships: Alastor/Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Asexual Alastor, Kinky Bottom Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562290
Comments: 71
Kudos: 313





	1. [Part 1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically PWP; it's tame because it's a period of self-discovery for dear Alastor, but I have two other very kinky parts planned if this does well /w/

While buttoning the cuffs of his red silk pajamas, Alastor gazed into the hellish night falling over the city. Hell knows nothing of crisp, still darkness under a bright moon, no, night in hell burns bright like a forest fire and hotter than one, too. These long nights remind Alastor of a sunset at the height of a Louisiana summer, except never-ending in its own intensity.

The longer, deeper shadows growing outside hide terrible and unknown dangers, so many demons find it safer to spend the nighttime indoors-- occasionally sleeping. Alastor himself needed no sleep, and has the blood-shot eyes to prove it, but for the reputation of the hotel he did highly cut back on indulging his favorite pastime of chasing prey through the shadows of the city streets. Now he’s naturally developed the habit of returning to his hotel room as the sky reddened with that deep hellish glow. Alastor usually took to spending these hours sitting upright on one side of the bed with a wide-eyed smile frozen on his features, patiently waiting for a new day to begin.

But tonight was too hot, too long, and _sooo boring_ , so finally he made the decision to do something, anything, with himself to pass the time. He laid back into the mattress and thought about how the others would entertain themselves in such a situation. Charlie was probably asleep, dreaming of heaven or rainbows or something other than how she died-- being that she had never technically lived in the first place. Vaggie was probably out stalking the night with her executioner's spear, avenging whatever ghosts of her past life she conjured. Husk was probably crying his eyes out in solitude, as though Alastor didn’t know what he did after drinking himself stupid all day. And Angel dust--

Alastor stopped his train of thought.

He didn’t even want to know.

Alastor had never touched himself, never been with a woman (or man), and he never had any inclination to try anything like that at all, ever.

But he would be lying to say he wasn’t curious. All his life and death he had watched countless people throw everything they ever had away for another person, when he knew the only thing they really had in common was a penchant to _fuck_. It seemed like a colossal joke that he was the only person in the world not to get the punchline of. 

Here, in a bright hot room in a secluded wing of the hotel, was, he thought, the perfect place and time to experience what all the hullabaloo was about.

He pulled at the neat bow that held his pajamas up, and it came undone. Alastor suppressed a shiver at touching his cold clawed fingers to the skin under the hem of his shirt, and weaved them into his loose pajama bottoms. He knew the cold around his unused organ would be greatly uncomfortable, but he allowed himself time to get use to it while savoring the experience. He felt too childish to “rub” the thing, so with as few movements as possible he found the most sensitive point and gently massaged himself there. He did eventually feel something other than idiocy, when a smooth heat built under the surface of his cold skin. He pressed into the feeling, chased it like prey as his breathing started to labor, but before he could catch it a sharp pain shot through his nerves. He’d retracted his hand in surprise, but when he returned to the hunt, the smallest touch again sent a painful shock down his legs and up his spine.

 _That could **not** have been it? That barely felt like anything at all._ he thought

Perhaps he had not considered the fact his genitals had not been kept in excellent service, and he panicked slightly at the thought that disuse had completely broken him. Still, the gentle blossoming of heat had not been so bad, he thought, and if he was doomed never to experience sexual pleasure then that little feeling was enough.

Thus Alastor began a new routine at night, letting himself bask in the beautiful yet fleeting pressure of _whatever that was_ , before a shocking pain prevented him from going any further. Eventually he found it taking much longer to build up the feeling, which also began to dissipate annoyingly quickly. He found certain positions aligning the nerves in his body, which he thought helped move things along-- such as raising his hips and pushing his back into the mattress as he serviced himself, keeping his legs wide and muscles taught. He also noticed things that did not help-- letting his mind wander as he worked to thoughts of anyone he knew inevitably caused the heat to flee into a frustrating coolness. One day he noticed the shock of pain through his body was less painful and more bearable, _almost_ like how he imagined a real orgasm to be. Even sore from the nightly experiments he continued until eventually the day came where he depended on that _barely-bearable_ shock to feel anything beyond the static-y blister of pain shaking through his nerves whenever he touched himself. With the pleasant heat totally dissipated and with no way of knowing if it should ever return, Alastor let his new habit fall by the wayside and thoughts of his experiments did not cross his mind again for many weeks.

***

Alastor had a vague idea of what a prostate was. He knew where it was, though not precisely, and he knew what it did, though not precisely. He’d been reminded of its existence when passing Angel Dust in the bar late that afternoon. Now was the perfect time for any ordinary demon to scurry safely to the nightclubs, which left the hotel almost as quiet as when he had first taken over operations. For some reason Angel’s words carried themselves with his thoughts as he made it back to his bedroom. He knew that whatever the feeling was he got out of masturbation (if he would call it that), was not worth the hassle or the uncomfortably shot nerves which left him paralyzed for most of the night, but he rationalized that if he could bring about that strange feeling _quickly_ by touching himself _there_ , it might be worth the trouble.

He was never, ever, in all the millions of years he had left in hell going to use a dildo, but one look at his clawed fingers made him chuckle at the stupidity of _that_ idea. He did still have one trick up his sleeve he had not used yet-- the shadow tentacles. He would have been humiliated, but the room was secluded and he knew the only sound he ever made was an almost imperceptible rustle of his satin sheets. A nervous excitement built around his shoulders as he considered whether to wear pajamas tonight-- he settled for only wearing the shirt. He wouldn’t admit it to himself but his smile stretched just a little wider in anticipation before jumping onto the bed to begin his new experiment.

For all his inexperience with such a thing, he managed to conjure up a small bottle of lube from memories of confiscating such things from guests at check-in, and almost gleefully applied some to his fingers. The frigid lube seizing up his muscles was uncomfortable, but he hated the sound most of all: the squishing and sloping brought a different heat to his face as he prepared himself, running his claws gently around the ring of muscle at his entrance and enticing himself to relax despite the awkward position he found himself in. He bid with his hand one small tentacle to materialize out of the shadow of the room. He curved two fingers gently toward his palm and the shadow pressed to his entrance. He really did begin to shiver then: the night was young with the lingering coolness of the day. Slowly he drew a finger in the air from his pelvis to his sternum and the shadow wiggled into his colon. Shaking, Alastor knew this was only the first part of his mission. He twirled his fingers in a small circle, the tentacle began moving in kind. He had no idea where his prize could be, but he didn’t need this lasting any longer than it needed to: he could already feel his muscles warming as he trembled. 

Frustrated after failing to find anything at all, Alastor hiked up his hips for a better angle and the tentacle leaped a few more inches into his body cavity before Alastor regained control. But he felt it, then. It was almost the same blooming feeling in his belly, except pulsing through his legs and up into his chest. He caught the sensation with the tentacle and pressed into it once more, and again the heat blossomed out like a pulse through his body, warming him through his core. He coiled the tentacle around the nerves as best he could through the walls of his intestines with a deft gymnastics of his hand, and kneaded his fingers together for the shadow to grind against his prostate as best it could. He knew the pain was coming soon, for such a lovely feeling to be accompanied by a doubly searing pain was a given-- but when the shock to his body came, he didn’t feel pain at all. He certainly didn’t feel pleasure, but the lack of electric fire in his veins as his nerves did their usual song and dance left him trembling into his sheets nevertheless, intensely hot and satisfied for the very first time. Even his sex organ gave a twinge of approval, as thought his body thought he was just getting started, but he wouldn’t be tricked into overstimulating himself tonight. He gently unclenched his hand when he was mindful enough to banish the shadow woven tightly inside his body. He shivered for the last time as it sloshed out with a pop and sank back into the shadows, and he pulled the satin sheets over himself to keep the warmth in. He’d never been giddy like this before, he almost felt human-- seeing as this is the first time he’d ever climbed under the covers of his own bed. He even enjoyed the sensation of the warmed lube dripping down his thigh. He was almost comfortable enough to fall asleep....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I technically almost fainted while writing this so please leave a nice comment or a kudos xD  
> I wanted to share my own experience as an asexual who only started masturbating in my twenties, and Alastor is so much like myself already;  
> It took a ridiculously long time for me to discover asexuality and then to acknowledge the fact I am an asexual, so I hope this story gives others a sort of an insight into what masturbation and sex could be like for an asexual; the feeling of "oh god oh god PLEASE don't think about anyone it took SO LONG to get to this part" i hope other aces have to experience that, LOL. 
> 
> The next parts, if you want to see them, are far away from my own experiences-- they're just my kinky fantasies i have to use to get off uvu''  
> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED AND THIS WAS EDUCATIONAL AHAHA
> 
> Also shout out to Eseli who really inspired me with her work to write my own Asexual Alastor <3 She is a true ally and the community of this fandom space would not be the same without her. <3<3<3


	2. [Part 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEW TAG WARNING: DUBIOUS CONSENT
> 
> As miserable old feelings rise to the surface, Alastor's body stops listening to his heart and things get pushed too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry if this part upsets or triggers anyone, especially other aces dealing with similar issues in my readership; I've updated the tags to reflect Alastor's budding internal conflict. With that said, enjoy!

The next morning, Alastor awoke near lunchtime and was surprised by a number of things: firstly, he didn’t recall any dreams. Secondly, the mess he expected of yesterday was mostly self contained. And thirdly, had no one come to check on him at all? He thought he might slyly ask Charlie later if she’d at least knocked on his door that morning.

He pulled his limbs over to the bathroom mirror and checked his face-- he was a bit put off to see his eyes weren’t as dark as usual, and that his smile seemed almost genuine this morning (another surprise for the list). Perhaps there was something to do with this "sex" thing after all, but he knew that little display last night was just an outsider’s imitation. His endeavors were simply, _ohh whatever was it that Charlie spouted on about recently... self love?_ He felt a bit proud to be taking some of her lessons to heart. Still, a thought nagged at the back of his mind that he really hadn’t _done it right_. He’d never ask Angel, but his experiments in the night never quite added up to what he supposed sex was _meant_ to be.

He shrugged off his thoughts with his pajama shirt and showered away the residual sweat and lube of the night. Soon he materialized with his usual attire and smile in the hotel lobby-bar.

Husk popped his lips off of a bottle long enough to ask where in hell he’d been all morning. Angel Dust stopped trying to get Husk to look at his breasts when he noticed a familiar glow on Alastor’s skin and the slight lean in his usual prim posture. Angel snickered before wiggling his eyebrows at Husk, whose own eyebrows shot to the ceiling in abject horror,

“No fucking way!” he rasped.

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter, “No _fucking_ , indeed!” he quipped before sliding off stage right in search of Charlie and the details of her next publicity stunt.

Angel Dust shrugged and muttered about something crawling up Al’s ass and dying; which Alastor mused was partly true. He found Charlie in her office and offered her company to lunch.

An evening of business discussions followed which lead to week long preparations as Alastor, Charlie and the gang began setting up a glistening crystal ballroom dance floor in an empty function room near the center of the Hazbin.

Invitations were sent along with the promise of free booze, which was probably the only reason Alastor now found himself welcoming a sea of guests at the door of the ballroom tonight.

He was in charge of the music, of course, and spent the majority of his time charming guests into returning for a tour between his jazzy reworkings of classical cotillion tunes. His responsibilities left him no chance to introduce himself to Charlie’s parents, with his flirting between other guests at the ball, but he supposed there would be time for formal introductions later.

The number of guests invited and uninvited slowly built throughout the evening, and Alastor eventually found it hard to keep more than a foot of personal space to himself, especially when brave elite demon bachelors and bachelorettes stepped into his circle to proposition him for a dance. He kept his cool for Charlie’s sake, but he found himself close to ripping apart the next poshly-dressed socialite that offered him their hand: he found such behavior so inappropriate while he was on the job. Alastor became more uncomfortable than he could bear when a particular demonic owl wouldn’t take “No” for an answer. He managed to weave through guests long enough to find a shadow in the glistening crystal room which he used to escape.

Alastor materialized onto his favorite little balcony, and while he didn’t expect himself to be alone, he was taken aback to see Charlie leaning onto the railing with tears glistening down her cheeks. It seemed such a shame to leave her alone like that, so he waltzed towards her and mimicked Charlie’s posture on the rail. He playfully nudged her arm with his, and left it glued to hers as he watched her little pout try holding back a smile.

“Hello Alastor,” her smile came through with a fresh tear as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

My dear, whatever could be the matter?” his smile softened for her.

He had asked, but he already knew.

“Can I answer your question with another question?” Charlie asked.

“Of course, seeing as you already have,” he grinned.

Charlie giggled with the rasp of someone freshly cried out.

“Have you ever failed at anything, Alastor?”

Alastor bit back the bravado on his tongue and willed himself to give a serious answer for Charlie’s sake.

“I suppose,” he began, looking out across the city.

A dozen faces flashed across his mind from his time on hell and earth.

“There have been many times in my life I have failed to live up to the expectations of the people closest to me.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, still glassy from tears, “How could _you_ possibly not live up to expectations?”

“Charlie,” he began…

Alastor was never sure how to explain his lack of "wanting" that everyone else seemed to live for. Every time he tried, he sounded like he was just making excuses for himself. Suddenly, though, he felt a new bassline thrum into his bones from the function hall. Alastor stepped back from the railing.

“Would you do me the honor of this dance?” He held up a hand to her.

Charlie looked apprehensive, as though she had a lot more to say, but she smiled gently and took his hand. Alastor materialized them both into the ballroom once again. Charlie let her head rest on Alastor’s chest as they swayed to the music, partly to hide the tears but also because Alastor’s shadow magic made her dizzy with the cheap champagne running through her veins. Alastor danced her through the function room, expertly shielding her from any parents until the song ended, and they slipped out the door.

They left the ballroom together with their hands clasped. Alastor’s feet walked without purpose down the corridors of the Hazbin until they’d suddenly reached his own room.

“Ah, so, this is my stop.” Alastor smiled to her, and slackened the grip of his hand.

“Yeah?”

“I do believe so.” He turned his head questioningly as Charlie did not let go.

“I think so too.” She stared deep into his eyes, expectant of something.

Alastor started internally kicking himself, _I should have walked her to her own room first like a gentleman!_

Charlie couldn't understand why Alastor was just standing there with such a scary expression on his face.

“So... are you gonna invite me in?” she pipped.

_What? No no no no no, she can’t possibly think…_

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Alastor didn’t know how to correct this misunderstanding, “I didn’t intend to… lead you on.” He tried to be gentle with her.

Suddenly, Charlie’s red cheeks started to glow.

“Oh. Oh! Sorry! That was really stupid of me-- and I have a girlfriend! So, uh. Sorry," Charlie looked down at her cute little dancing shoes, "It was just, yaknow, really nice tonight, and I’m pretty drunk, and I’ve ruined everything. Again I’m so sorry--

“No, Charlie. It’s alright, dear. I understand”

He didn’t understand at all.

“Okay, that’s fantastic!" Her eyes bounced back to meet his, "Since we’re on the same page here, let’s never speak of this again? Deal?” Her smile was pleading.

“Deal,” he smiled wider-- and something deep within his chest started to stretch like an elastic band.

He didn’t bother to open his door, simply materialized behind it and face-planted into bed.

He was such an idiot, a "heartless fucking idiot," as Husk had once said. _Of course she had gotten the wrong idea!_ he berated himself.

Alastor didn’t blame Charlie for taking his attempts at comfort to be signs of attraction, he blamed himself for getting careless again: for showing others too much promise in something which would not and _could not_ ever happen.

Everyone took his eventual rejection differently: Some like Mimzy never spoke to him again, some like Husk pretended that they’d never caught those feelings to begin with, and some just kept trying as though his answer would ever change. Change? Change is what Hazbin Hotel is all about. He supposed his life would be so much easier if he could just be like everybody else; It was exhausting when his closest friends took a chance on him, and he had no choice but to crush their hearts with a smile.

His smile started to twitch as a long-forgotten heat pressed into his eyes. He couldn't cry about this? He was always the one to make the decision, and tonight it had been the right decision too, since he’d definitely spared himself an executioner’s spear for breakfast; so why did he feel like the one to be rejected? He spent many hours collecting thoughts as static built around him. The tension inside his chest began to make him agitated.

He hadn’t noticed how hard he had been clenching his smile until he finally found some strength to unbutton his dress shirt and his fingers brushed his skin; the intensity of the chill shot up to his jaw and made his teeth chatter painfully. His hands were so cold that he wondered if he undressed himself without shadow magic, could he pretend, just for a moment, that he was being undressed by someone else? A dormant heat rose to his face, and that’s exactly what he did-- slowly and carefully discarding his garments, making sure to keep in gentle contact with his cold hands. He did not, and could not, give his imagination a face, but he certainly took his time in savoring the illusion of company while drawing his hands across his skin. He could let himself feel almost cared for. When the last piece of cloth was peeled away, he caught a reflection in the dressing mirror of his lonesome body and creepy smile wrapped in his own arms. Heat pressed into his eyes again as he thought about how pathetic he was being. The humiliation sent hot pulse though his icy core and down. He then noticed something in the mirror he hadn’t ever seen before-- his dick had woken up at his own horror for this entire pathetic thing. Alastor wanted to crawl into a ball and die of shame but his disgust at himself only sent another hot pulse bleeding into his skin.

Alastor instead crawled naked under his sheets and tried willing his boner to just go away. But as it pressed warmly onto his skin, he dismayed to realized what a terrible opportunity this would be to waste, considering how long he had tried to make his cock behave this way in the past.

His hands were too cold to risk actually touching himself, so he materialized on top of his bed sheets and summoned a shadow tentacle from the corner of the room.

When two tentacles lashed out of the shadows in an uncontrolled manner, Alastor suddenly realized what a terrible idea it was to use summoning magic while miserable and horny. One shadow found fast purchase on his leg and Alastor bolted upright in alarm that he hadn’t prepared himself for this. Materializing a new bottle of lube in a fluster, he used two long claws to stretch his sphincter muscle and prayed he was still loose enough from his last session to not suffer any damage.

A tentacle wove up each leg as he loosened himself, pulling his thighs apart like he was some common slut, and Alastor began to feel like a real deer for the first time-- about to devoured. The fear sent a hot flush down his chest and into his thighs, helping to loosen him a little as he tenderized the ring of muscle for the shadows. He’d only ever been in complete control before, but he thought it humorous to let the benign shadows continue as they pleased, since he would simply banish them if they misbehaved.

The shadows continued their climb as Alastor's breathing started to labor in the way he knew he was ready to begin.

The smaller of the two tentacles soon slid over his balls and winded around the base of his cock, sending a series of flinches into Alastor's shoulders which beckoned him to remove his claws and lay down again, which he did without complaint. He found himself clutching the sheets hard as the shadows explored his lower body. The larger shadow started circling his tight, wet ring of muscle. Alastor let out a hot and shaky breath at the teasing. He could almost imagine his faceless lover testing his tightness and his clenched smile softened by a fraction. The tentacle shocked Alastor out of his daydream, though, when smoothly slipping a monstrous length into his body with a disgusting welching noise. Alastor drew a sharp breath as his vision returned static and his spine curved up from the mattress. Nerves sent warning shocks across his body. Alastor resorted to breathing in short gasps as the tentacle buried itself deeper inside his body, as though trying to feel as much of Alastor as possible-- Alastor felt the shadow expanding against his entrance as it moved- sending violent twitches through him which only invigorated the shadow until the pressure of Alastor's body straining to contain it eventually prevented it from continuing. Alastors body tensed and shook sporadically as it adjusted to the sensation of being so full. 

The smaller tentacle had begun twisting upwards and brushed the tip of his cock, Alastor coughed out a small sound which clenched the muscles of his pelvis, earning an excited wiggle from the other tentacle currently pressing painfully against his organs. Alastor could feel maddeningly small brushes against his prostate, but slowly he was starting to lose his nerve. Every sweet flush of pleasure came back weaker as his lust was getting cooler. The pain threatened to overtake his pleasure at any moment.

A thought nagged through the haze in his mind, of what he would think of himself if he lost his desire at a moment like this. A disgust started bubbling up in the pit of his stomach that brought the heat of tears into his eyes more sharply than before. If he let them fall now, though, he may well start to scream. Alastor’s mind grasped for something, anything, that could sink him back into desire long enough to finish this.

 _You’re a disgusting, loathsome whore_ , his mind supplied. He clung to the thought. 

_You love this, being raped by all these cocks, huh?_

The image of demons and men holding down his lithe body as he writhed to get away from the cocks buried deep inside him made his whole body violently flinch against the current intrusion, and the shadow shimmered in response. A hot flush of humiliation forced his breathing to deepen again.

_That’s all you’re good for, you fucking slut, pleasing men stronger than you. Holding yourself open for them, letting them fuck you into the sheets like a whore._

The tentacles started pulsing desperately, Alastor let his legs fall open slightly wider, sending the tentacles deeper. The overwhelming pressure forced Alastor to finally let the tears fall.

_You were **made** for their cocks. They’ll tear you apart for their own pleasure and make you scream_

The tentacles thrust up and down his body in abandon. They pushed him further and wove all around him, twisting like snakes as they devoured him, and Alastor could feel them abusing his organs from inside and out- he was stretched and full and vibrating from the pain-- but what he needed was too close now to quit.

 _Please please please please please please--_ He desperately needed just a little more.

_You fucking love this, you worthless, useless fuck_

Alastor choked on his tears when he was finally awarded release.

His orgasm was not blissful, but it rippled through him like soothing water while a pressure escaped his cock. He banished the tentacles and basked in the pleasant emptiness-- a momentary freedom from pain. Any normal person would cut their losses and go to sleep, but Alastor immediately strained his spent muscles to sit up. He sat hunched over, ignoring the shocks of pain as his organs readjusted themselves. He was trembling, with surprised tears still falling down his face.

What the **fuck** was that? Why the hell had he done that?

As the pleasant trembling of orgasm gave over to outright shaking, Alastor was entirely unsure of whatever had just happened. His smile was naked, and he felt his eyes twitch from exhaustion as the tears kept spilling over his face. He couldn’t say he hadn’t asked for this, but when he suddenly jerked over the side of the bed to vomit up black tar, he could honestly say he hadn’t expected _this_. He held himself without minding the cold and just let himself cry the tears out softly.

Chasing that temptation of orgasm had left him feeling a hundred times worse than where he had started tonight-- and the sky outside was turning from the deep fires of night to the pastel red of day. He breathed in a shaky breath of air when the tears slowed, but the cold hit the back of his throat and burned. This was the most terrible he had ever felt before, but he only had himself to blame. Now he would have to clean up, dress up, and smile like it had never happened. 

A dark part of his mind took a small pleasure in the existential pain of hiding his broken self with a smile, the feeling of fresh shame was always a sadistic delight. He clenched his teeth as a stab of pleasure went straight to his cock again, sending an agonizingly overstimulated response back up his spine. He was beginning to think he had a problem.

When he stood from the bed he felt like a young fawn learning to walk, but he managed to get close enough to the bathroom sink to catch himself on the sides when he fell into it. He examined his pathetic tear stained face in the mirror:

_What a perfect look to have with a fat cock on the tongue._

Another tear fell without resistance. He took two clawed fingers and dipped them down his throat to simulate the feeling, and watched himself in the mirror as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. He swallowed down the bile and watched himself cry again with knitted eyebrows. Is this what he wanted? It made him sick. This was all wrong. He thought about blowing off work today, but the last thing he wanted was the princess to start asking questions, as per usual after an unscheduled absence. He took some deep breaths and finally materialized into a warm shower.

He wanted to turn back the clock and stop himself from ever starting this, and he let himself believe he was himself again when he finally stepped out of the water.

### Part Three Sneak Peek:

Alastor materialized into the lobby with a smile slightly less stellar than usual, but before he could even muster up a “Good morning!” a sudden sharp pain stabbed through his kidney.

He looked down to find Miss Vaggie was staring up at him in desolate horror, as though she didn’t intend to go thrusting her spear through his body this morning-- she honestly didn't think she could. Alastor was so surprised that he wasn’t even the first one to respond.

Charlie wailed from across the lobby,

"Alastor, **_PLEASE_ **don’t kill her!” she cried, distraught that her (currently-ex) girlfriend had just stabbed through a powerful demon with her spear.

Vaggie’s look of horror turned to twisted, angry smugness that she had maimed the Radio Demon.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before fucking someone else’s girlfriend,” she spat before withdrawing her spear with such an angry sulching that it splattered Alastor’s blood in a thick ribbon across the lobby floor.

Alastor blinked and brightened his smile. He really didn’t have the energy for this today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Living life as an asexual can be difficult, especially when you don't yet have that label for yourself.
> 
> I actually grew up in Louisiana, and while there was a lot of discussion about LGBT, there wasn't anyone talking about Asexuality beyond the tumblr discourse at the time (which was the continuing war over whether aces belong in the LGBT or not). 
> 
> I knew about Asexuality a very long time before I understood what it actually was, but I didn't have a chance to identify myself with it because I had someone in highschool (a member of the lgbt, but also an asshole) constantly telling me I was straight-- so I never joined any discussion of sexuality because she made me believe I didn't get to have an opinion.  
> I never identified _myself_ as straight, but none of my actual self-identified straight friends seemed interested in relationships, either, so I couldn't point to anything concrete to justify the feeling in the back of my mind. 
> 
> I let myself drift without an identify for an extremely long time, sometimes believing i must be gay just because it seemed a tiny bit easier then being straight. The pain of being invalidated by that person in highschool followed me for many years as I struggled to separate my true feelings from what she would want me to believe about myself.
> 
> Eventually, though, I started privately identifying myself as asexual about maybe a couple years ago when the inclusive side of the ace discourse war started winning out, and a couple ace-positive posts reached my timelines. 
> 
> This year, I couldn't keep waiting for something to change, and I publicly identified myself as asexual for the first time. I love my identity, and yeah it's still painful to think about all the invalidation I had to fight through to get to this point, and I still wonder if that person long ago would even believe my sexuality if I talked to her, but i'm so glad now I have found a label that comforts me and a community to understand me. 
> 
> Now that I finally figured out my sexuality, though, I've still got to figure out my gender. I hope other people struggling with their identities take their time and patience and don't let other people's opinions of you influence how you feel about yourself. 
> 
> Out of curiosity, tell me if you expected Alastor to take Charlie up on her offer to have really awkward, shit-tastic sex lol


End file.
